There’s a maple by the waterthat like all the other broad leafswas late to the party this year
and it’s already dropping leavesjust one or two in the weirdheavy southeasterlies
I look to the topTo the far tor, looming;Bare, honed, and huddled bonesRevealing their formationsTo themselves; a wise assembly…
Bursting through the silvered skin,the mirror of the sky,I gasp for breath,
poem by Matthew de Lacey Davidson
Fly me a riverof butterfly dreamsthat flutter and flapon a gust of the breeze…